Then the truth hit Zak. Of course. Why had he not seen it before? Drizzt's spirit, his instinctive skill with weapons, the light of defiance in his strange lavender eyes… Malice had lied to him eleven years ago. This was no child of Rizzen's.

"My son…" Zak breathed in wonder.

The third jade spider was recovering. Even a blow from the Dagger of Menzoberra had not been enough to keep it at bay for long. Drizzt had the instinct of a fighter, but he lacked the experience. That first blow had been lucky. The second might not be.

Zak launched a furious attack at the jade spiders, driving them back for a moment. He jerked open the door of a side chamber and pushed a surprised Drizzt inside.

"Lock the door, Drizzt!" he shouted. "And don't open it until I tell you!"

Drizzt shook his head in protest. "But I want to help you fight!"

This was no time to be soft with the boy. "That's an order!" Zak snarled. "Do it!"

Drizzt hung his head, his expression wounded, then nodded, shutting the door to the side chamber. Zak waited to hear the heavy lock slide into place. Satisfied, he turned to engage his foes. The three jade spiders had recovered and scuttled toward him as one. A fierce grin spread across Zak's dusky visage as he raised his swords. He had something to fight for now.

"Come on, you magical vermin," he growled, and the jade spiders did.

Chapter Twelve: Dagger Bearer

"Hello, Drizzt Do'Urden," spoke a sultry voice.

Gasping in surprise, Drizzt spun around. At first the small storeroom appeared empty. Then the shadows unfolded before him. He blinked and found he was not alone after all.

She was the most beautiful drow lady he had ever seen. Her skin was as dark as onyx and as radiant as faerie fire, and her bone-white hair fell over her smooth shoulders in a single lustrous wave. She was clad in a trailing gown of what seemed thick black velvet. Her deep red lips parted in a small smile, revealing pearl-white teeth. Most remarkable of all were her eyes. They were purple, just like Drizzt's own.

Muffled but clear, Drizzt heard the sounds of battle outside the door. "I should be out there, helping him," he protested. "I'm going to be a warrior one day, you know."

The lady laughed-clear water on dark stone. "Oh, yes. I know. But your place right now is here, Dagger Bearer."

Drizzt gazed at the ornate dagger in his grip. Its purple gem winked back like a secret eye. He looked up at the lady.

"How do you know me?" he demanded.

"I know many things," she replied. A breath of wind seemed to ripple the fabric of her gown, but Drizzt had felt no breeze. With a start he realized the truth. It was her dress itself that was moving. The gown was not fashioned of black velvet, but of tiny spiders, each clinging to another, weaving a living fabric.

Drizzt licked his lips. "I'm not… I'm not afraid of spiders, you know."

"Truly?" Her smile deepened, a perilous expression. "Then come closer, child."

The lady in the dress of spiders raised a slender arm, beckoning him, and Drizzt could not resist her power.

Chapter Thirteen: The Favor of Lloth

Matron Malice strode down the corridor toward the sounds of commotion, furious someone had dared disturb her celebration. Curious-or hoping to see blood-much of the feasting party followed in her wake, including, to her chagrin, Matron Baenre. Malice could only hope whatever she found would not embarrass her in front of the powerful matron of Menzoberranzan's First House.

Her hopes were dashed when she rounded a corner and took in the scene before her. A mixture of emotions crashed through Malice: astonishment, rage, and an inexplicable feeling of… exultation.

The three jade spiders had him cornered. One of his swords had been knocked from his hand, and the other was broken a foot from the hilt. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. One jade spider he could have handled with ease, two with difficulty. But even for him, three was too much. They closed in for the kill.

"Is that not your weapons master, Matron Malice?" a voice croaked in her ear. Matron Baenre.

Malice shook her head in confusion. "No… yes. I mean… he was, but I…"

"Make up your mind, Sister," Baenre crooned in a mocking voice.

Anger cleared Malice's clouded mind. She would not be made a fool in her own house. Not by her intractable weapons master. Not even by Matron Baenre herself. She raised her voice in command. "Stop!"

At once the jade spiders heeded her order. The ensorcelled creatures retreated, then folded themselves up, inanimate stone once more. Zaknafein leaned against the wall, chest heaving, clutching a small wound in his side. Briza's jaw dropped at the sight of the condemned weapons master, but for once she remembered to keep silent, as did the other members of the household. All held their breath as Malice approached him.

"How?" Her voice was flint: cool, hard, with a spark to its edge. "How did you survive the ceremony of transformation in the Cavern of the Lost?"

A roguish gleam touched Zaknafein's eyes. He bared his bloody teeth in a sardonic grin. "What can I say? Lloth's favor shone upon me."

It was a lie. They both knew it. But Malice did not dare probe deeper. He would only defy her, and she did not wish to reveal her lack of control over him in front of Matron Baenre. No one should have to suffer such a willful male. Whatever feelings for Zaknafein still burned in her heart, they were eclipsed at that moment by the dark blot of her outrage.

"If you are so favored by Lloth, you will be glad if I send you to her side in the Abyss!" Malice cried. She plucked a spider-shaped dagger from between her breasts and held it aloft.

To her astonishment, Zak did not resist. "As you wish, Matron Mother." He bowed his head before her, presenting her with his bare neck.

Malice hesitated, regarding the weapons master in suspicion. What was Zaknafein up to?

"It is your right to take my life," Zak went on. "Of course, I do happen to know where the Dagger of Menzoberra is at this very moment."

Malice drew in a hissing breath. So that was his game. Well, she would not be taken in by his trickery. "Prove it," she snapped. "Or die."

"Very well."

Zak stood and opened a side door. All gasped as a small form stumbled out, lavender eyes vague and distant.

"Drizzt?" Malice snarled at this increasingly bizarre charade. "What does the boy have to do with this?"

Zak placed a hand on the young drow's shoulder. "Show them, Drizzt. Show them the Dagger."

The boy blinked, his violet gaze coming into focus. A shiver passed through him. "I can't, Master Zaknafein. I don't have it anymore."

"What?" Zak cried. A look of horror racked his face. He gripped the boy's shoulders in desperation. "But what happened to it?"

Drizzt frowned, as if finding it difficult to recall just what had occurred. "It was a lady. In the antechamber. She took the Dagger from me."

Zak gave the boy a rough shake. "Who? Who was it who took it from you? One of your sisters?"

Drizzt winced in pain, shaking his head. "No. No, I don't know who she was. I've never seen her before. But now she's gone."

Zak released the boy, shoulders slumping in defeat. Malice pressed the spider-shaped blade against the weapons master's neck. "You have lost, Zaknafein," she spat. "Whatever subterfuge you arranged to trick me, it has failed. You escaped your doom once. You will not do so again."

"Wait a moment, Matron Malice. The spider is swift in dispatching its prey, but it is never hasty."

Malice hesitated, holding the knife against the taut skin of Zaknafein's throat. She watched in surprise as, with stiff movements, Matron Baenre approached the boy Drizzt. The ancient drow reached out a gnarled hand, cupping his chin, raising his strange lavender gaze to hers.